


But The World is Beautiful

by leaffeal



Series: The Green Sighted Titan [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Child Abandonment, Child Murder, Classical Music, Discrimination, Gen, Marley (Shingeki no Kyojin), Minor Character Death, Musicians, Police Brutality, Pre-Canon, Self-Hatred, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Spoilers, Violence, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29605263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaffeal/pseuds/leaffeal
Summary: Eren Kruger was never given a predecessor, so I wrote one for him. This has none of the main characters from aot.Claire Rebeck is a musically gifted child born in Marley. She's born with a future full of promise and greatness. But she's sheltered, and she's never fully considered the divisions in her world before they're too close for comfort.Tldr; Life is beautiful, until it isn't.
Series: The Green Sighted Titan [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183436
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	But The World is Beautiful

Claire Rebeck was a little girl born to two composers. By the time she was ten, she was a child prodigy, and people from all over watched her play violin in grand music halls. She could feel her future stretch out endlessly in front of her, filled with promise and golden stage lights.

Not even a month ago, her mother had finished composing her best piece yet. It was bold and jubilant, almost tangibly joyful. She rarely got to perform for others, let alone with the orchestra, so every day, Claire practiced into the dark hours of the night. And as she took her spot on stage, she didn't marvel at the ornately decorated hall like some visiting grade-schooler, nor did she waver beneath the sneers of her fellow violinists. She turned a sharp eye to glare back and sat down with all the dignity an eleven-year-old could muster. Claire sought out her parent's proud gazes in the audience and felt the fluttering anxiety in her chest calm.

The orchestra came to life: The percussion rattled the floorboards, the brass and woodwinds sang high. There was a moment of silence as every instrument quieted, and finally, the violins joined the fray. Claire's violin thrummed with the strength of the music tucked underneath her chin as she slowly built tension. Every note sprung up from her bow and floated into the air like sparks from a blazing bonfire. The pressure broke, and Claire's heart soared as the orchestra joined back in, and the song rose to a crescendo. She played her mother's composition for the world to hear and felt the love in the music fill the cavernous hall.

Her mother hated hospitals and never even went for routine checkups. But after one nasty bout of weakness left her unconscious on the kitchen floor, her father had had enough. He picked her up like she were a broken dove and carried her to the local practice. It was just a simple blood test. The doctors told the police before Claire found out, and the mob came for her while she was still asleep in her hospital bed.

When it was revealed an Eldian woman had tainted their piano, they dragged it into the public square and burned it with her devil mother. Those same violinists who played her song were the ones who lit the match. The sound of screaming and piano strings snapping mingled like a foul duet. Claire fought towards the center of the gathering crowd. "Mom!" She wailed over the jeers and accusations. She never reached the front, but in between the gaps of onlookers, Claire watched a public security officer grind her mother's blackened hand underneath his heel.

She gradually became aware of the fact she was running, heaving breaths through her constricted chest. A fog lifted from her mind. She slowed to catch her breath, then sat down and manically sobbed into her hands. She had no idea where she was, but she didn't care. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't hear anything other than the roar of blood in her ears. The screaming, the smell of burning flesh. Oh god, the smell. She wailed into the darkened sky.

"Shut up! What are you screaming for this time of night!" An officer in a pressed blue uniform towered over her. She hadn't even heard his approach. A thick rope of dread coiled inside her stomach and recognition flashed across his face. She scrambled to her feet.

"Hey, you're that devil's brat aren't you?" She ran. She heard him yell out behind her before he blew his whistle, but she kept running nonetheless. Her house was on this street, she realized, and almost cried in relief. She was just a block away now. She'd never run so fast in her life, nearly tripping on her own feet, and pounded her fists against the door.

"Dad! Dad open the door! Open the–" The officer grabbed the back of her shirt and slammed her into the ground. He wrenched her tiny arm behind her and kneeled on her back. She writhed beneath his grasp, so he punched her side where it was soft. When the door opened, she failed her legs uselessly and sobbed, "Dad help me!"

"Is this one yours?" The officer said with disdain.

"Don't insult me," said her father. She caught his eye and saw something she'd never seen on her father's face: pure hatred. He slammed the door and clicked the lock.

She was shocked. She didn't resist as they hauled her to her feet and dragged her away from her home. There were two officers now, and she was in the road. That was all she registered beyond the overwhelming pain of each kick and punch. Her face felt warm; her mouth tasted like iron. She could have been screaming or crying, but she didn't hear it. As she slipped from consciousness, she retreated into a beautiful memory, where taut strings bit sharply into fingertips, stage lights cast cruel shadows, and the two men's blows set the tempo for a joyful, loving song. When she sought her parent's faces in the audience, her father's was contorted with disgust.

She was a lost, orphaned Eldian. She was found outside the designated slum and without her armband. They would have killed her right there had one specific public security officer not noticed the slowly steaming wound underneath his fist. It was so improbable it was almost fated.

"With your sacrifice, Eldia will have back its fighting chance. You should be happy you get to avenge your poor mother," they told her. Despite the fact she had nothing and although her life was utterly miserable, she discovered that she wanted to live so badly. She wanted to live more than anything. If not for fear of death, than of want to play her violin just one more time.

All the broken parts of her combined into a black coal of hatred that settled into her chest like a second heart. It was cold and heavy. It mourned what she had lost, and it seethed at every betrayal. It beat to the rhythm of her mother's song. Claire's mind was filled with music as she died, sharp and discordant. Instead of a bullet, she died horrifically between the teeth of a giant, and Eren Kruger inherited the power of the Titans.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write a longer fic with the premise that Eren has much more access to past and future memories due to the fact he has both the Founding and Attack titans. This was just an idea in my head like a rock in my shoe. I love the running theme of the cruelty and beauty of life in such a harsh world as Attack on Titan. I wanted this fic to be about that, mostly. 
> 
>   
> use of the word crescendo: I know that I technically used it wrong but the way that crescendo is used in English today is different from its technical musical meaning. In other words, I can't be bothered. 
> 
> !!!!!!MANGA SPOILERS IN THE REST OF THIS NOTE!!!!!!
> 
> Zeke and Armin's discussion in the latest chapter is a good summation and ending point for this theme, even if it's pretty on the nose. Music is something so unrelated to the biological purpose of life I thought it would be a very good choice to represent that part of the discussion. The world might be cruel but it is also beautiful, no matter what Zeke might say otherwise. The desire to live doesn't just boil down to fear of death. If Zeke asked Claire, "Would you even have wanted to be born into this world" she might think about it for a little bit, but, just like Armin would, she tell him "Yes". That's the fic.


End file.
